


4AM

by Wwizardboy



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8502268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wwizardboy/pseuds/Wwizardboy
Summary: Murdoc never expresses his feelings about his abusive childhood, only ignoring it and distracting himself with substance abuse and self harm, leaving his feelings to build-up until he eventually has a breakdown.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's hard to tell, but there's kind of 2 narrators. The regular omniscient narrator, and Murdoc's subconscious. They switch frequently and sometimes it's a little confusing but that's the best way to tell the story in my opinion. I hope once you read it you'll understand. thanks.

**It's 4 AM, do you know where your children are?**

The bassist lies awake on his bed, with his hand on his chest feeling his quick, unstable heartbeat. Sweat drips down his face, still shaken from his nightmare.

"Why can't this shit go away?"

"Why do I feel like this after so many years?"

It's been how many years now? Murdoc can't seem to remember, all his days now seem to be a never ending cycle of substance abuse, self harm, and anger. So much time wasted, how long has it actually been? Murdoc sits up, there's no point in trying to go back to sleep.

"Why do I even bother?"

Murdoc stands up, finding a cigarette and lights it while letting out a deep sigh.

**It's 4:30 AM, do you know how long it's been?**

What year is it? _2016._ How? It was 1975 just yesterday. _No you sod, you've spent all that time trying to forget._ Forget what? _Now you've really done it. How badly have you fried your brain with the alcohol, the drugs, the constant anger?_ Where am I? Who am I? What happened to me?

* * *

Young Murdoc, still in grade school, wondering around the building during lunch with no where to go. He passes by his teacher Mr. Gravadlax's room, he peers inside to see Mr. Gravadlax alongside other teachers, complaining about the government, the school, regular old boring adult stuff. Murdoc quickly begins to lose interest before one of the teachers mentions a student they don't particularly like, that's when Murdoc hears Mr. Gravadlax say "Murdoc Niccals is an appalling student. He's a stupid imbecile who often turns up smelling of whisky." As all the teachers agree on the disgusting behavior of the gross child Murdoc Niccals, he storms off. He's angry, then thinks, "what they say is true, so what's the point of being so angry about it?" This thought ends up making him feel worse. As he's walking away he bumps into Tony Chopper. _Great. Just what I needed._

"Murdoc! Watch where you're going gay lord. You're a great stinking pile of horse dung so don't even think about coming near me again, you hear odd sock?" That was it. He’d had enough, he wasn’t going to let this meaty skinhead pick on him anymore. Murdoc stood his ground, looked Tony in the eye, and said “you useless, bloated backward waste of space! You'd probably get a job holding up those 'For Sale' signs on the corner of streets only to then get yourself fired and replaced by a bucket of soil. A piss monkey would stand a better success in life.”

Before Murdoc could take pride in finally standing up to Tony, he was on the ground. Tony had punched him so hard, he broke Murdoc’s nose. Murdoc looks up at Tony’s fat red face with blood running down his nose, so in shock he doesn’t realize what just happened.

“Try that again, reject.”

* * *

 

Murdoc takes the bud of the cigarette still lit with the slightest spark, and puts it out on his bare hand. Not even making a sound, not even reacting to the burn - but why should I? There's nothing to feel, there's no more pain. Because I just - Forget. Forget the pain like every other time. Forget the pain and cover it up with anger - lashing out on everyone you know and love until you find yourself at 5AM, alone. Scared. Unable to talk to anyone, and drowning in your own thoughts. How long has it been since I've actually been me? When was the last time I was sober? Am I sober right now? Am I intoxicated? It's been so long I can't tell the difference either way it's the worst feeling in the world. Murdoc Niccals the gross old goth who never loved. Murdoc Niccals the nasty old man with the temper. Murdoc Niccals the one who was never wanted. The one who was always left behind. The one who was left alone at 5:35AM, talking to himself. Not knowing what's real or what's fake. Who's talking? _It's me._ Or is it?

Murdoc looks in the mirror, he stands half naked, only in his underwear observing his aged body covered in scars, bruises, and wrinkles. He smirks and walks away, digging into a cabinet, pulling out a pill bottle. He doesn't bother to read it and takes 2 with a swig of alcohol that's been sitting in his room for god knows how long. He looks in the mirror again. "Disgusting old face of the good ol' Murdoc Niccals, who got no strings! The son of the infamous shag, Sebastian Niccals! The face of the boy with the poor, poor backstory that no one cares about." His breath is shaky, so are his hands. He looks in the mirror once again before smashing it. _Look what you've done now. That's a million years bad luck._ "Add it to the pile, and I'll meet you in hell."

Murdoc paces to his bed once again, reaching underneath his pillow, pulling out a gun. _Make sure it's loaded._

**It's 6AM, do you know I'm gonna die?**

Murdoc holds the loaded gun to his head. Looking down at the shattered mirror pieces on the floor, his bleeding hand trembling on the trigger. _You're too scared. You'll never do it._ Watch me.

**It's 6:12AM, get it over with will ya?**

He sits there with the gun to his head, tears running down his cheek, "no one will miss me anyway."

**Author's Note:**

> to be continued!  
> final will be posted by next week.


End file.
